


To Touch What's Beautiful

by KelAlannan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Soft boys being soft, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:19:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelAlannan/pseuds/KelAlannan
Summary: Since Chirrut came to the Temple of the Kyber and Baze was assigned as his guide, they've been in constant contact. That's what friends do, right?It gets complicated when Chirrut realizes he's head over heels for his best friend.





	To Touch What's Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> For Retrocentric as part of the Spiritassassin Exchange. You wanted sweet!
> 
> I was casting about for plot bunnies when, in the subway, I fell in behind two boys, one of whom casually slid his arm around the other's waist. It struck me as so simple and sweet that here we are. (You wanted sweet!)

Chirrut was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the Temple of the Kyber. He was sure he met more people in this NiJedha Temple then were in the whole city at home. The voices of novices, masters, Jedi, and pilgrims passed through his ears like wind as Master Olang toured him through the halls. 

He hoped no one minded he would need their names again and again. He only had voices for recognition after all. 

The last bell before dinner had just sounded when Master Olang made a pleased huff and called out, "Malbus!"

Presently, Chirrut heard footsteps approaching. "I was hoping we'd find you soon. Baze Malbus, this is Chirrut Imwe, lately of the Xioha Temple. Chirrut, this is Baze Malbus, a novice of the second duan. He'll be your mentor until you have learned the Temple and our routines."

The footsteps came closer and hands took Chirrut's own; both hands clasping both hands-- the traditional Jedhan greeting of respect. "Welcome to NiJedha, novice Imwe. If you have any questions, you can ask them of me at any time." This new voice was deep for a teenager, which Chirrut assumed he would be from the rank. Some slight crackle; it was possible his voice was newly broken, as Chirrut's was soon due to. 

"Anytime?" Chirrut chirped with an impish smile. "And please, call me Chirrut." 

"Then I am Baze." For the large boy he must be, from his deep voice and his large, solid hands, his voice carried a shy smile as opposed to the formality of his greeting. 

"Excellent!" Chirrut had nearly forgotten Master Olang was there. "Malbus, will you bring Imwe in to dinner?"

The boy murmured, "Yes, Master Olang." His voice was clearer as he turned back to Chirrut. "Have you seen the gathering hall yet?" 

Chirrut shook his head. He had taken lunch in the kitchens as he met the staff. 

"This way then." Chirrut started as a hand touched his elbow and led him down one of the myriad of halls. 

 

Evening prayers came after dinner, and afterward, Chirrut hurried to follow Baze out of the hall, fearing he would lose his guide amongst the hundreds of footsteps taking all different paths. Then suddenly, again, Baze's hand was at his elbow, lightly tugging him away from the throng. 

The halls grew quieter as they walked further. Then Baze broke the near-silence with, "Was that much different than at Xioha?"

Chirrut shook his head. "Not much. It's nice that they invite visiting Masters and pilgrims to lead a prayer. Not many people came to Xioha, so always the same people lead prayers."

"Why did you come here from Xioha?" Baze asked, curious. 

"The masters say I'm sensitive to kyber. I don't know, I don't think I have anything out of the ordinary. They wrote to Master Olang here and he said they could use me for finding kyber veins. I've never tried it, so I don't even know if I can."

"Master Olang is wise; if he thinks you can help, I'm sure you'll be a great asset. We're in the dormitory wing now, do you know your cell number?"

Chirrut had been distracted, talking with Baze, but now noticed that sound echoed closer, as if the corridor was narrower. "West 23, Master Olang said."

"Right up here, then. On your left. You're only a few doors down from me."

Chirrut ran his hand along the left wall and counted doors until Baze came to a stop. "Here you are." 

Chirrut felt along the side until he came to a button and, upon pressing it, heard the hiss of a door sliding open. "Goodnight, then, Baze. Thank you for showing me around."

He had nearly forgotten about Baze's escorting hand until it dropped away. "Goodnight Chirrut. Will you tell me about the kyber sometime? I've never felt anything towards them when I've seen them, though the scrolls say people can."

"When I learn about it myself, I'll tell you," Chirrut laughed. "Will you show me around again tomorrow?"

"I'll meet you here to go to morning meal. Well...'night then." With that awkward departure, Baze moved away from Chirrut's door. Chirrut waited in the doorway until he heard a door opening echo down the hall. 

He found his way to the bed and laid down immediately. He could learn the room tomorrow. The Temple was large and intimidating, but the people seemed warm and at least he maybe found a friend. 

So Chirrut and Baze became friends. Baze spent the next two weeks taking Chirrut from place to place around the Temple and surrounding grounds until he had a map memorized and could tap his way around with his staff. 

The other inhabitants of the Temple easily noticed the friendship between the two boys. First, they always saw Baze leading Chirrut around and later, they would see Chirrut dragging Baze around by the hand or running ahead on some sort of scheme while Baze, who while graceful in fighting could not be called fast, followed behind. 

For his part, Chirrut was glad of having met such a friend when everyone he knew was still back in Xioha. He was bemused by the way Baze kept in close contact with him-- a hand on his shoulder blade as they navigated the crowded streets of Jedha City, grabbing his arm when Chirrut made him double over in laughter at his antics. After a time, it didn't even register with him; it had become a natural part of their friendship. 

Things changed a few years later, when Chirrut was nearing the fourth duan and Baze the fifth. They had practiced their forms and sparred together for years and were an even match for each other. The training masters loved to call them to the floor to impress visitors. Since they knew themselves to be even in skill and strength, their matches were about out-thinking each other. 

This particular match came on the heels of an argument about dogma that both were convinced they were on the right side of, as young men often are. This didn't translate into any kind of brutality -- they were much too good of friends for that -- but they were both stubborn fighters who refused to let the other gain any sort of upper hand. As such, they circled and circled, struck and retreated, feinted and dodged, until they were sweating out and out of breath. 

They were moving slower too and the audience was waiting with bated breath for either of them to collapse of exhaustion, when Baze swung his staff low towards Chirrut's calves and freed a hand to extend into his unguarded chest when Chirrut blocked low. Chirrut flew backwards. 

He lay there, winded, and could hear Baze panting as well. He eventually sat up amid the excitement and applause of the audience, with one arm propping him up from behind and the other rested on his knees, his hand dangling in front of him. 

A few moments passed and Chirrut mostly heard the buzzing of the audience and the pounding of his own heart, so it took him by surprise when a hand enclosed his. It squeezed three times, a signal between him and Baze, and he was ready when the hand heaved up to flow with it to his feet. 

Baze placed a hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing his neck, and leaned in to say, "Well fought, brother." His voice was as warm as a summer breeze and full of pride-- not in his own victory, but for his friend's ability. 

Chirrut did not know why the scent by which he could always recognize Baze's presence now filled his nose and made him sway on his feet. Or why the heat of exertion suddenly started to creep down his neck and chest. Why he was as aware of where Baze's fingers touched his neck as if they were branding irons. 

He stepped back, away from Baze and the cloud of confusion Baze had enveloped him in, and bowed. He knew Baze would return the gesture, then he bowed in the direction of the training master's voice, and escaped to the showers. 

The cloying awareness of Baze did not go away. His body scent made Chirrut blush. His creaking laugh made Chirrut duck his head to keep his smiles private. His familiar touches made Chirrut want to pull away and lean in at the same time. And occasionally he had dreams that led to several days of hiding from his best friend in obscure corners of the Temple. It was all terribly confusing. 

But Baze's casual contact, which had been a part of their friendship forever, began to grate on him. He was trying to keep whatever this crush was from interfering with their friendship, but it was so hard to do that when he wanted to grab Baze right back. 

And he began to wonder why Baze did it. As far as he could tell, Baze never got close enough to anyone else to be like that with. The only difference...which Chirrut hated to think...was that Chirrut is blind. Maybe Baze still saw him as the poor scared blind kid he was that first day. He didn't want to believe this of him, but what alternative was there? 

This frustration festered. 

* * *

 

"Baze?"

"Here, Chirrut." Chirrut followed the sound of his voice, down the six rock steps from the Temple to the courtyard. 

"What is our mission today, o fearless leader?"

"When have I done anything but follow your fool self around, keeping you out of trouble?" Baze grumbled. Chirrut delighted; he loved annoying that tone of voice from him. "With tests coming up, the promoted Guardians will need new skirts. We're picking up fabric." 

Chirrut had just opened his mouth, a crack about blind men dressing others, when Baze cut him off: "I'll choose it, you can bother the vendors into giving us the best price."

Chirrut beamed in Baze's direction. "Charm then, you mean!"

"I'm sure you'll leave an impression either way," Baze tempered, voice fond enough to warm Chirrut considerably. "Just don't make them turn us away indefinitely. Are you ready to go?" 

Chirrut jabbed his staff into the hard ground before him twice. 

"Let's go." He felt Baze lean in and then a hand touched lightly between his shoulder blades. 

Chirrut shivered and tried to cover it by stepping deliberately away. The earlier warmth hadn't dissipated, but rose now to his cheeks. Ire rose with it. If Chirrut was going to quietly deal with an all-encompassing crush on his best friend, he needed to draw some boundaries for his sanity. 

"Would you stop already, Baze?" He snapped. He felt the other draw back in surprise. "I'm not a poor blind child needing to be walked everywhere as if I can't do it myself."

"What?" Bewilderment in one word. 

"For years, you've escorted me around, like you were just about to do, grabbing my arm or-- just-- touching me! You scold anyone who treats me like a imbecile, but you treat me the same?"

"Chirrut--" 

"I know where the fabric stalls are. I can walk there by myself without running into any walls along the way. And I can put in their place anyone who tries to stop me." His hands ground tighter on his staff as if daring someone to try. 

"When have I ever stopped you from doing anything?" 

"That's not the point. Just...I would hope for better from you."

After a brief silence, Baze asked, voice cautious but amused, "Have you ever thought that maybe I just like to touch you?"

Chirrut froze. Now it was his turn to be taken aback. "What?"

"When you hear the kyber sing, is one song ever so sweet that you have to feel it for yourself?" 

"Ah, yes?"

"It's in the nature of being to want to touch beautiful things."

Chatterbox Chirrut was struck dumb for the first time in a long time. His jaw had dropped and he stood gaping at Baze. 

"I'm sorry," Baze continued, sounding slightly abashed, "I hadn't realized it bothered you. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable."

Chirrut finally found his voice. "Beautiful?"

Now Baze sounded really embarrassed. "Well, yes. I hope that doesn't bother you. I would never push anything on you; it is fine just being your friend." 

Chirrut itched to touch Baze's cheeks, to see if they were blushing warm. Baze sounded uncomfortable and Chirrut suddenly thought of every time he pictured telling Baze he liked him and getting shot down. What would he have thought if he'd told him and been silently gawked at?

He stepped toward Baze's voice and freed a hand from his staff to reach out. A familiar large, callused, gentle hand met his. "It- it doesn't bother me. My apologies for yelling at you. It somehow hadn't occurred to me that could be the reason. Despite my knowledge of my obvious good looks." He tried his patented winning smile at that, feeling his face stretch and his eyes crinkle, and it wasn't hard to do-- joy bubbled up in his throat as if he might shout it out. 

His smile only grew when Baze laughed. "It truly doesn't bother you, Chirrut?"

"It only bothered me when I thought it didn't mean anything. But you like me, don't you?"

Chirrut let himself revel in the sound of Baze's low voice, quiet and assured. "I do."

"And I like you. I guess we were both oblivious, so let's be fools together."

"I'm allowed to touch you now?"

"You're allowed to touch me anytime, Bazey."

A sigh. "You know I hate that name."

"Too bad. You like me, ergo all the things you say you hate you clearly just find charming."

Despite the needling, Baze's fingers were gentle as they lifted Chirrut's chin and his lips were gentler still when they touched Chirrut's own. Chirrut could have been a tree, so rooted to the ground was he in that place and time. And despite not having the eyes to see, he understood beauty in that moment. 

Then Baze drew back and, after a contemplative silence for them both, picked up the strand of talk from before. "I'll truly hate if we miss dinner because we got to the market late." 

"Then let's go!" Chirrut tugged on their joined hands then pulled away in front, Baze following close as usual. As the bustle of the city grew, Baze's hand slid to the small of Chirrut's back. His arm was warm against his back and Chirrut allowed himself to lean in close against Baze's solid form as they walked together.


End file.
